Highland Burn by Victoria Zak

he’d spent most of the night watching Abigale. It wasn’t long after the second sip of whiskey that her eyelids grew heavy with sleep. Deeply nestled inside the furs, she looked like an angel. Long dark eye lashes rested on her flawless cheeks, her mouth was slightly open, and James could hear her soft breaths. She mesmerized him, enticed him.
    Furthermore, he found it quite enjoyable to sit and watch. The vision of Abigale talking to Fergus back at the stables brought a smile to his face. The way her face lit up, the soft touches she gave Fergus, even the way she bit her bottom lip when she was deep in thought captivated him. He cursed silently. Was he really becoming jealous of a horse?
    Abigale sighed, bringing James’s attention back to the beauty sleeping right before him. Soft curves called to him as she nuzzled deeper into the furs. His body ached as he fought the urge to slide under the covers and press his body against hers. His hands twitched with the thought of running them over her breasts, down her stomach and… Before he knew it, he licked his lips. How sweet she would taste.
    He scrubbed his hands down his face like he was trying to erase her from his thoughts. No such luck. With his bastard of a dragon stirring inside, the beast purred in agreement. God’s teeth, he should have claimed her when he had the chance to. Surely it would make his decision to send her away a lot easier.
    A rant from Rory grabbed his attention. One last look at Abigale and James made his way to where his men were sitting around the fire. He hadn’t joined his fellow Dragonkine yet. To be honest he didn’t want to hear about the short-heeled wenches they had been with or their recent tavern brawls. Nay, James had other things on his mind.
    “I dinnae understand –“
    “Understand what?” James interrupted Rory as he approached the site.
    “My Laird, I’m afraid Rory has had a wee drop too much mead and is loose with his tongue.” Conall eyed Rory as if telling him to shut it.
    “I have nay.” Rory became defensive. “Ye know ‘tis true, humans have their rightful king. Why can’t we have our king?” Rory drained the last of his mead.
    Magnus, an elder Dragonkine, spoke up, answering Rory’s question. “Aye lad, at one time we did have our own king who ruled along with King MacAlpin. Dragonkine flourished in our own kingdom.” Magnus had a faraway look on his face, as if he remembered that time very well. “Aye, many glorious years of peace.”
    Rory gazed at Magnus. “Until we became a threat.”
    “’Tis true, King MacAlpin slaughtered our people along with our king, King Drest,” Conall stated.
    “Aye, it was supposed to be a peaceful meeting between kings and our royal seven. Ale, food, and women aplenty were offered as the kings made peace. So we thought. Before King Drest and our royals knew what was happening, the floors to the great hall had opened up sending our people deep underground. Bodies impaled upon sharp spikes, they couldn't move, and the trap doors on the floor were sealed shut. Covered with earth, our king and royals were buried alive.” Magnus paused, clearing his throat. “Only a few Dragonkine survived that day." Magnus stared into the flickering flames as if he saw the past recurring.
    “I dinnae call surrendering surviving,” Rory bit back.
    After the dreadful massacre King MacAlpin had showed no mercy to the Kine. The king’s orders were to slay every Dragonkine in the realm, man, woman, or child, it did not matter. As the last remaining seven Kine warriors stood with cold steel pressed against their necks and arms and legs bound with chains, King MacAlpin changed his mind. Mayhap the last seven remaining would come in handy as he looked onward to battling future enemies. A massive, powerful dragon on his or any future human king’s side would be of great value.
    So, an agreement had been made. There would only be seven Dragonkine warriors left to roam the Earth, all warriors